


Lord English's Palace

by imleadinginmyhead



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Brothels, M/M, Pole Dancing, StripperStuck, Strippers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 09:44:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5243651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imleadinginmyhead/pseuds/imleadinginmyhead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dirk has been working in a male stripclub/brothel for about 2 years now. He has to show the new stripper, Jake English, how things work around the pole and ends up drawing his attention. Will Dirk be able to keep his cool facade and get the foreigner to swoon or is he going to fuck up magnanimously and never have a chance to tap those English Muffins?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lord English's Palace

Dirk was sitting in the common area of the apartments, reading his personal choice of technology magazines. It was already 1PM but he had just woken up maybe thirty minutes ago so the only thing he was in was a pair of sweatpants and socks. There was a bit of a commotion but when wasn’t there? The way things usually ran was someone treated someone else to a little extra and now they have to book ass out of there before the Boss comes through. Everyone called him that because it was either that or “Lord English” and no one listens to royalty in a strip club/brothel enterprise. Unless of course you’re into that shit, to which you better be the lowly servant unless you want to mysteriously end up in the hospital with severe injuries or food poisoning. But that, as they say, is business.

                Speaking of the business, things have been pretty slow lately. Aside from the few regulars, not too many people have been filling up for the nightly shows. As much as a party city that LA is, sometimes things slow down when they have no new content. If they don’t get someone good and new in, or maybe even change up the theme somehow, this miniature empire may end up hurting and crumbling.  

“So you hear about the new kid?” Cronus asked as he entered the room. Cronus was one of the seasoned strippers in the club. This guy had an alright routine but had a bit too much of an ego to get descent tips from people, unless they were super kinky cougars or gold diggers. The latter is probably why he can afford his rent every month. He was also one of the types that offered “bonus” packages, but no one had ever taken him up on the offer. He also had a weird way of talking, some kind of fake accent that messed up the way he would say anything with a “w” or a “v” in it; he claimed it was from the foreign country of unknown name and importance that he grew up in years ago.

               “No, should I have?” Dirk asked putting the magazine “WIRED” down. When it comes between interactions with this guy, Dirk liked to keep things to a minimum. It’s not that Cronus had ever done something explicitly against him, it’s more like one douche bag in the room is enough.

               “He’s got a nice pair of legs,” Cronus said as he opened the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water. Of course it was one of the waters Dirk had put in for himself, but the general idea of ‘you bought it you eat/drink it’ apparently doesn’t apply to a formerly aristocratic moron. Cronus turned around and took a long drink of the water. “I’m pretty sure the dude has as much coordination as a new born gazelle.”

               Dirk really wasn’t in the mood for hearing Cronus talk shit about someone this early in the afternoon, so he got up and stretched. Besides, he was now morbidly curious about just who this new person was. “Where’d they end up putting Mr. Uncoordination?”

               “They put him in the small bedroom on south side,” Cronus said walking around and taking a peek at the magazine Dirk was reading and rolling his eyes at the cover.  “He’ll probably be the worst stripper known to man considering how awkward he is, not to mention his way of speaking reminds me of something I would hear in an old time English movie or something ridiculous like that.”

               “I dunno,” Dirk headed for the stairs. “Some people dig the foreign type no matter what they can’t do on a pole.”

               Without waiting for the bitch fit Cronus was most likely going to throw over the obvious insult, Dirk jumped up the stairs two at a time. A new person is just what the business needed although he never remembered the Boss talking about a kid. He couldn’t even imagine anyone willingly having sex with the man and didn’t want to go there frankly. Dirk stopped in front of a hallway mirror before heading to the room that had the door wide open. Hair? Good. Shades? Clean. That’s all that mattered to him for first impressions so he continued down the way.

               When Dirk got to the doorway he knocked on the open door which got the new addition to stand up with a start. He had black messy hair and emerald green eyes underneath dorky glasses.  He had light brown skinny jeans and a forest green blazer open to reveal a neat white t-shirt. He was about 4 inches shorter than Dirk and had a slightly darker skin tone, must have been from his father’s genetics. His father was some unknown mix of who knows what, Dirk always theorized part devil or at least Rottweiler when he was pissed off about something. But this guy looked more like a lost puppy if anything.

               “Oh golly, you startled me chap,” He laughed, placing a hand over his heart, before extending it to Dirk. “My name’s Jake English. I just moved here from Chelsea.”

               Dirk furrowed his brows together, “In the city?” _Great, another moron with a fake accent. At least this one is kind of cute._

               “If by city you mean London, then yes.” He beamed his hand still extended out.

               “There’s a Chelsea on this side of the pond so I thought you were from there.” Dirk smirked to himself and took Jake’s hand. “The name’s Dirk, Dirk Strider.”

               “Good to meet you Mr. Strider!” Jake shook his hand one last time and took a deep breath, placing both of his hands on his hip like he was ready to go conquer a mountain. “The accommodations are quite nice I would say. How long have you been working for my father?”

_Is this guy for real?_

               “Two years,” Dirk said, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame. He decided to make a mental note of the fact that this newcomer from England was the son of The Boss, while keeping the general surprise from that newfound fact hiding underneath his trademark poker face. “I started out for the sake of irony and decided to stick with it because it pays better than expected.”

               “Irony you say?” Jake looked at him with genuine interest. “That’s quite the way to get into this line of work.”

               “True,” Dirk smirked for a moment to himself, remembering when he told his father what he had taken up as a part-time job.   That’s basically the reason why he lives onsite. “What about you? You’re The Boss’s son?”

               “Well,” Jake started scratching the back of his head. “My grandmother raised me and recently passed away. I decided to come to the states to see what America was like, being that I have no other relations over there. My father mentioned that he had a job and housing all set aside for me, so I took the opportunity. He emailed me during my flight and filled me in as to what, uhm, exactly my job was going to be, but I’m not too worried about it. This should be quite the adventure!”

Jake seemed to be legitimately excited to see what it would be like to be a male stripper. Dirk shrugged his shoulders. “It’s not as easy as it looks. There’s a reason that the decent employee are in shape.”

Jake furrowed his brows and then nodded to himself, deciding that it would make sense that if someone’s swinging themselves around by their arms and legs on a metal pole they should at least have a small amount of muscle mass. “Well, I’m always up for a good adventure no matter the challenge.”

Dirk let out a short chuckle, picking himself off of the door jam and uncrossing his arms. “If you need anything, just let me know.  I live down the hall on the left, the room with the crown unceremoniously burnt into the wood.”

               “Thank you very much Mr. Strider,” Jake smiled again. “I look forward to seeing you around.” Dirk turned to leave, before he got an idea. If he really was this new to the states never mind the area, he may want to learn the general ropes of how things were done. He about faced to ask him if he wanted to grab coffee and get acquainted with the area. He turned to see Jake trying to get his fitted sheet onto the queen sized bed, reaching across the bed, sticking his butt up unceremoniously in the air. 

And boy was that an ass to behold. Dirk decided that he would wait until Jake was all settled in his new living situation before taking him on a turnabout the town so he smirked to himself and left. Well, he attempted to leave and instead ran the right side of his body full force into the woodwork. Without a word or even turning around, Dirk left walking as quickly as he possibly could.  If there was anything that could have made him look uncool, it would have been that. At least no one else was around to see it, maybe even Jake didn’t see it. Either way, he was going to get into his room and mentally yell at himself as per every fuck up’s routine.

_Smooth move Strider. Smooth fucking move._

**Author's Note:**

> Well, it's not like I have two other ongoing fics that I should consider updating, but this idea came into my head the other day so I decided to run with it. It's going to be multiple chapters, (exactly how many I have no idea) but it should be a descent amount of fun to write. I'll attempt to update it within a year!


End file.
